


User Error

by irisbleufic



Series: One Step Away 'Verse (& Related Excursions) [8]
Category: Back to the Future (Movies)
Genre: Anniversary, Awkwardness, Canon Compliant, Epic Bromance, Established Relationship, Hoverboards Are Not Suitable for Use by Manchildren Either, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Science Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: This is an OSA 'Verse ficlet set between Design Flaws and Twin Palms Inn.





	

**October 26, 1987**

“Hey, Doc!” Marty shouted, barging into the garage with two days' worth of mail tucked under his arm.

Normally, they would've headed to Hill Valley on a Friday evening and returned to Menlo Park on Sunday afternoon. But, given that one of Marty's professors had canceled his Monday class, he'd decided to say _screw it_ to Tuesday and keep them at the Estate till early Wednesday morning.

This was a normal Tuesday in anybody else's book, but not in Marty's. So far, Doc seemed oblivious.

“Don't slam the door!” Doc replied, fussing with what looked like a level. “This measurement is—”

“Screw your measurement,” said Marty, tossing their stack of bills down on the work-top, meeting Doc's mildly irritated glance with one of his own. “D'you even know what day it is? Do you _care_?”

Doc tipped the level on its side, indicating surrender. “Tuesday. You're skipping class as we speak.”

“Yeah, and I haven't skipped all semester,” Marty pointed out, coming around to Doc's side of the work-top so that he could get as close as he wanted. “You're forgetting his is a _holiday_ , Doc.”

Doc's eyes actually darted toward the calendar tacked on the wall next to the door, although he seemed distracted by Marty's tipped-up chin and deliberately-parted lips. “Unless either the state or federal government has issued a new decree in the past twenty-four hours, I don't see _how_ —”

“Gimme a break,” Marty sighed, tugging him down for a quick peck. “October 26th—are you serious?” Doc winced a little as he hunched into the kiss. “Two years ago today? Ring any bells?”

Doc rubbed the back of his neck even as his expression softened in regret. “Now you mention it.”

“What did you do this time?” Marty asked, reaching up to touch the spot he'd just seen Doc examine.

“It's just a pulled muscle, maybe a bit of tension,” said Doc, dismissively. “What I get for working all hours. I suspect it has more to do with the time I spend hunched over a keyboard than anything else.”

“Your column for next week's done,” Marty sighed. “You shouldn't be out here messing around with—with whatever this is, okay? We should be celebrating the fact you didn't _die_.”

Doc closed his eyes while Marty continued to massage the sore spot. “And that you didn't die, either.”

“I didn't mean for it to come out so morbid. Forget I said that,” Marty added, patting the back of Doc's neck before sprinting away from him. “I have an idea,” he said, reaching the supply closet. “It's, ah, festively appropriate,” he added, digging until his fingers closed on the hoverboard.

Doc wandered over to loom questioningly behind Marty. “How can that device _possibly_ —”

“You're just not thinking outside the box,” Marty said, letting go of the hoverboard such that it floated level with Doc's shins. Setting his hands on Doc's shoulders, Marty hopped onto it, testing his balance, finding the arrangement stable enough for his liking. “See, now I'm tall enough to...”

He'd intended to use it for purposes of solving Doc's neck-pain problem, he _really_ had, but the more immediate and compelling argument pointed to using it for a kiss. Doc wasn't protesting, either.

“Your unorthodox ingenuity strikes again,” Doc murmured, breaking away to nip at Marty's earlobe.

“What, you're not even gonna call me Future Boy?” asked Marty, wobbling slightly, sounding winded.

Doc stopped what he was doing, glancing slyly up at Marty. “Wouldn't you rather I saved it for later?”

“Oof, _jeez_ ,” Marty laughed, planting a sarcastic kiss on Doc's forehead. “What a sweet-talker.”

“I was hoping you'd put this to its originally-intended use before launching such a shameless tease,” Doc admitted, tugging Marty in closer so that he was no longer hovering slightly above where he should've been. “Now, I have minimal interest in whether that ache hangs around or not.”

“Here, lemme see,” said Marty, using Doc's forearms to maneuver himself around to Doc's back. He dug his thumbs into the offending spot, drawing a grunt of pain from Doc. “That's one hell of a knot.”

“Don't overdo it,” Doc cautioned, voice strained. “It'd be wisest to use a heat pack on the area first.”

“Would you just _relax_?” Marty replied, resting his cheek against the back of Doc's head while he worked. He sighed at the feel of Doc's hair, which wasn't pulled back. “I'll go easy on you, Doc.”

“That's not what I'll be asking before too long,” Doc murmured, rubbing the back of Marty's left hand, which rested on Doc's shoulder. “If this is somewhere along the lines of your bright idea involving the DeLorean back on the Fourth of July, then it's...a more successful hypothesis by far.” 

“ _Mmm_ , I love it when you talk dirty,” Marty retorted, giving Doc's neck one more thorough pass with both hands. “Seriously, though, you've gotta stop typing for like six to eight hours at a time.”

“Difficult, given I prefer to get pieces done in a single sitting so I can spend more time—” Doc maneuvered himself around in Marty's grasp, almost knocking Marty off-balance “—like _this_.”

“Believe me, I appreciate it,” said Marty, softly, eyes already closed. He loved the feel of Doc's lips against his, touching-but-not-quite. “So are you gonna put your money where your mouth is, or—”

He was cut off mid-sentence by the abrupt impact of his tailbone with the concrete floor. He wheezed.

“Great Scott!” Doc was already on his knees next to Marty, helping him to sit up. “Are you all right?”

“Um, _ow_ ,” Marty managed, rubbing vaguely at the small of his back. Doc's hand was already there, too, and that definitely helped. “Ah, Doc...you were saying? About this being a _success_?”

“I spoke too soon,” said Doc, grinning in apology. “Come on, Future Boy. Let's get you an ice pack.”


End file.
